


An Eye for An Eye

by velourianspirit



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dark dark shit, DreamSMP - Freeform, Evil Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Gen, Good Friend Quackity, Good Friend Toby Smith | Tubbo, Good Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Good Sibling Wilbur Soot, Good Wilbur Soot, Healing, I cannot stress this enough, I'm Sorry, IT IS NOT CANON, IT'S NOT AT ALL CANON IN THE DREAMSMP, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implies Dream's Takedown, Injury Recovery, Philza Minecraft is a good dad, Please Don't Hate Me, REMEMBER THIS IS NOT CANON, Recovery, Resurrection, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicide Attempt, THAT IS PIVOTAL TO REMEMBER, THIS IS JUST MY OWN FUCKED UP THOUGHTS, Tags May Change, Tommy's Friends and Family are Good, Violent Thoughts, Warning: Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, dream revives wilbur, eret's feature is small but important as heck, everyone is good except Dream really, first thing I've written in months, if you didn't already get that from the summary, l'manberg, not canon, not in this anyway, quackity impersonates mexican dream, stupid block game, techno isn't an anarchist, they absolutely will change i'm an indecisive monster, this is Not Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velourianspirit/pseuds/velourianspirit
Summary: Wilbur gets resurrected, but at a cost for Dream, who is suddenly left in the wilderness with one life and nobody on his side. As they rebuild L'Manberg, Dream gets weaker, but so does Tommy.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I want to reiterate that this isn't canon in the DreamSMP. This is post-Doomsday (the destruction of L'Manberg), and is not canon, but heavily talks about, references, implies and deals with suicidal thoughts, a suicide attempt, and recovering after a suicide attempt. Please do not read this if any of the aforementioned topics trigger you.

“So, you want to come back to life?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” the man said. “That’s a pretty big ask, Wilbur. If I do bring you back to life, I’m going to need something in return.”

“What do you need?”

“That’s the thing, Wilbur,” the man continued. “I don’t know yet. And maybe I won’t know for a while, but when I do, you have to deliver. You have no other choice. If you don’t deliver, you’ll pay the price.”

“So, you need something from me, but you don’t know what you need?” Ghostbur mumbled, floating around Dream’s glowing green figure. “I don’t really get it, Dream. I just want to come back to life. I don’t want to be a ghost anymore. It’s so cold, and I don’t want to burn in the rain anymore.”

“An eye for an eye,” Dream declared. “I have to revoke one of my lives to bring you back to life, Wilbur. And in return, when I need something from you, you have to do it, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And also,” Dream continued, “if I find out you’ve let anyone know where I am, you’ll pay the price, alright? You’re going to waltz back into the ruins of L’Manberg with all of your memories of this encounter, the memories you obtained as a ghost, and the memories of your life. You’re not going to say anything. If people ask, you don’t reply. And if Tommy asks anything, you say nothing. Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll be reversing your resurrection immediately. Understood?”

“I understand, Dream.”

“Good. Now, get on the bed, and close your eyes.”

“Dream?” Ghostbur whispered. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will.”


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Wilbur's successful resurrection, the team -- Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity and the newly-reformed Philza & Techno -- get to work on rebuilding L'Manberg and restoring the nation to its former glory, but not without many hurdles to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people who left kudos & read the prologue last night, thank you so much! I honesty didn't know if I'd get many hits or kudos, but I am so grateful to all of you. 
> 
> This chapter is predominantly Tommy, Wilbur and Tubbo-centric. Though I plan for the main work to be heavily centred around Tommy, Wilbur and Dream, each character listed in the character tags will be featured in either a major or a minor way.
> 
> Please remember that this is not at all canon in the DreamSMP lore. The canon events stopped after Doomsday, where L'Manberg was destroyed by Technoblade, Philza and Dream. 
> 
> From this chapter onwards, I do have to remind you that this work has a strong theme of suicide. If you are at all affected or triggered by suicide and its surrounding themes, I greatly advise you to not read any further. 
> 
> Thank you for supporting An Eye for An Eye!

“You look tired,” Wilbur said, tapping Tommy’s shoulder. “Do you want some water? Or something to eat? I know we want to rebuild L’Manberg quickly, but you shouldn’t overwork yourself either, Tommy. Sit down.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy sighed, sloppily wiping his forehead of sweat and grabbing a chilled bottle of water from the portable cooler on the ground. “I don’t need to eat anything. We should really just get back to rebuilding L’Manberg.”

“You’re not fine, Tommy,” Wilbur muttered. “Sit down and have something to eat. Even if you have a few berries, it’s a lot better than nothing. You can’t exactly rebuild a nation on an empty stomach, can you?”

Tommy shrugged. “I guess you’re not wrong,” Tommy said, sitting down on the grass next to Wilbur, who smiled weakly as he looked at his little brother. Even though he’d been out of exile for weeks, it was clear that Tommy wasn’t exactly looking after himself despite being around his family and friends. “What do we have?”

“A fair bit of bread, some carrots, some apples, some berries, a bit of cooked chicken, and a dozen cookies, if I’m not mistaken,” Wilbur said. “We need to save some of the bread, though. We haven’t got a lot left, and it’ll take a few days for the wheat to grow again.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. 

The two brothers sat in silence for a short while as they ate their food, until Tommy piped up, talking through his last slice of bread. “Wilbur,” Tommy started, “when you came back as a ghost, why do you think that was?”

“I don’t know,” Wilbur sighed. “Techno and Phil think that I had some unfinished business here, which is probably true, I guess. They say that people who have unfinished business on Earth are likely to return as ghosts or spiteful spirits, in worst case scenarios. I’m just glad I wasn’t spiteful when I was a ghost.”

“So, you remember everything from when you were a ghost, then? I thought it’d all disappeared when he brought you back,” Tommy continued. 

“I remember everything. It’s weird, because I could barely remember anything when I was a ghost, but I remember everything that happened when I was a ghost. I remember the night you got exiled, and how I didn’t like to talk about myself. I remember when Phil gave me the Friendship Emerald from Technoblade. You could ask me about anything that happened while I was a ghost, and I could tell you my perspective of things, even though I had such a terrible memory when I was a ghost.”

“Right. Why do you think you remember everything? Do you think he coded your brain to make it so you’d remember everything, or do you think it’s a part of the resurrection process?” Tommy asked. 

“I don’t think he’d code my brain to remember everything. I don’t think he ever had that sort of power, and he especially doesn’t have that sort of power now, either,” Wilbur concluded. “I doubt coding my brain is a simple task to do alone, especially when he said that resurrecting me was the worst thing he could do for his life. I think he just resurrected me normally -- as normal as resurrections can be, anyway.”

“Is it wrong of me to wonder how he’s doing?” 

“I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong of you, Tommy, no, but you shouldn’t dwell on his wellbeing either. He’s our enemy. After we rebuild L’Manberg, we’re taking him down permanently. You won’t need to think about him for much longer.”

“I’m not worrying about him. I was more thinking about how much of a fight he’s going to put up,” Tommy continued. “Even though the majority of us only have one life each, we’re not exactly struggling, are we? I don’t know how draining a resurrection is, but it begs the question, doesn’t it? If he’s weakened because he resurrected you, that’s an overall win for us.”

Wilbur opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Quackity, who was jogging over to the pair of brothers, donning his strange smile, though lacking his beanie. “Hey! We have a nation to rebuild, man!” he yelled, audibly impersonating Mexican Dream, which made Tommy and Wilbur laugh loudly. 

“Wha--what the fuck? Why do you impersonate him so well?” Tommy managed between loud gulps of laughter. 

“See, that always gets you! It doesn’t matter why I’m so good at impersonating him. Get your asses down here. We need all the help we can get,” Quackity said.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming,” Tommy said. “See you down there, Wilbur.”

Wilbur nodded as he shoved their leftovers back into the portable cooler, looking inquisitively at Tommy as the sixteen-year-old ran after Quackity, hopping over the residual mess that was left after the destruction of L’Manberg. Wilbur knew Tommy wasn’t exactly happy with himself, but he was starting to get genuinely concerned over his little brother’s overall mood.

Knowing that he’d talk to Phil and Techno about Tommy’s general state of mind later, he zipped up the portable cooler, left it in the shade and trotted down the remnants of the staircase, heading towards the group with a small smile on his face.

* * *

Later that night, Tommy was getting ready for bed by putting away his tools, while Tubbo was in the bathroom, scrubbing at the residual dirt and dust that was left on his body. The bunking system for L’Manberg’s temporary community building was simple; Tommy and Tubbo shared a room, while Wilbur and Quackity shared the one directy opposite the hall. Techno was alone in a small but beneficial single room that donned a brewing stand, and Phil was in his own room too, which was currently littered with drawn-up plans for the rebuilidng of L’Manberg.

“Tubbo, are you gonna be long? I need a poo,” Tommy yelled, knocking on the bathroom door as he unsheathed his sword from the strap on his back, staring at the glistening blade he was holding.

“I’m nearly done! Did you have to say that?” Tubbo yelled in response, partially muffled by the sound of the shower running. “Give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy muttered, still staring at the sword in his hand. It was one of the few things he had, and while it wasn’t his best weapon he’d had compared to the weapons he’d had before, it was the best weapon he had considering the current situation. They’d all scraped together a few pickaxes and went into the mines for a few days in a joint attempt to find diamonds. Thankfully, since they’d all spread out across the world, they’d managed to get enough diamonds for them all to have a durable pickaxe and sword. Tommy’s tools were his current prized possessions, especially his sword. They were the only things he had.

Staring at the edge of the blade, he wondered how it actually felt, considering how numb he felt. He felt emotionally and mentally numb, and while he didn’t know if the numbness would equate to physical numbness too, he wanted to know how it felt. He’d been stabbed and attacked by his so-called friends before, but that always hurt unless he’d chugged golden apples. 

This, though? Swiping the sword across his hand or his arm? Tommy was sure it wouldn’t hurt. It couldn’t hurt. He was too emotionally drained for a mere cut to hurt, whether or not it was caused by a diamond sword, a butter knife or a piece of paper.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tommy swiped the sword across his palm, hissing audibly as the blade ripped into his skin. Just as he opened his eyes, he stared at the blood rising on his hand, and then his eyes met Tubbo, who looked utterly horrified.

“Tommy? What are you doing?” Tubbo asked, his eyes darting between the sword, Tommy’s bleeding palm and Tommy’s face. Tommy’s eyes were stinging with tears, surprised at how much the sweeping edge of the sword had actually hurt him, while Tubbo’s eyes were completely filled with fear and horror. “What did you do?”

“It was an accident,” Tommy muttered. “Tubbo, it was an accident, I swear. I w-was unsheathing my sword and accidentally cut my hand. I didn’t mean to do this. I’m fine.”

“Tommy, you’re bleeding!” Tubbo said, grabbing the sword from Tommy’s hand and throwing it across the room, looking simultaneously terrified and furious. “Tommy, look at me. Did you do this deliberately?”

“I told you it was an accident, Tubbo!” Tommy snapped. “Why don’t you believe me, Tubbo? You’re my brother. You’re supposed to believe me no matter what I say.”

“Don’t say that, Tommy. Don’t pull out that card. The shape of that cut is too clean for it to be an accident. I know accidents happen, but this isn’t one, is it?” Tommy asked. “I won’t tell anyone. Let me help you bandage that up.”

“I don’t need your help,” Tommy shouted. “I’ll deal with it. Just… fuck, I don’t know. Put my sword away and go to bed.”

“I’ll put your sword away, but you’re not bandaging that up on your own, okay? Let me help you,” Tubbo sighed. “I’m your brother. You don’t need to tell me the truth right now, but I need you to be honest with me in the future. Let me clean that blood up and bandage that cut up.”

“Fine,” Tommy muttered. “Please don’t tell anyone about this, Tubbo. Please.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t tell anyone,” Tubbo whispered, hodling Tommy’s unharmed arm. “I just need you to look after yourself in the future, okay? You’ve not been right for a while.”

“How am I meant to be okay?” Tommy asked. “I’m the cause of this destruction. I didn’t summon the Withers or blow up every single building, but I’m the direct cause of all of this, Tubbo. We forgave Phil and Techno, but we didn’t really have a choice. Phil is our dad, and Techno comes in a package with Phil. He’s not just a weapon anymore. He’s our friend. Our family. But you guys don’t have to forgive me. You could cast me out and leave me to die.”

“We wouldn’t do that to you, Tommy,” Tubbo sighed as he pressed a tissue to Tommy’s wound, frowning as he watched the vermillion liquid soak through the tissue. “Look, we could’ve cast out Will when he was resurrected, but we didn’t, did we? And we probably shouldn’t have allowed Phil and Techno to come back, but we did. Maybe that was a mistake, but we’ll find out in due course. We can’t lose you. You’re an extremely valuable part of L’Manberg, and we couldn’t just cast you out, not when we all have unfinished business with Dream.”

“But you could,” Tommy continued, hissing softly as Tubbo gently examined his brother’s wound. “You don’t have to, but things would be a lot easier for all of you if you exiled me again. It’s not like Ghostbur’s going to follow me, and nobody would visit me. I would be alone, like I should be. I don’t deserve any of you.”

“Stop talking like that,” Tubbo snapped. “You’re my brother. You are my family. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. You have a family. You are so, so valued as a part of this family, Tommy. You know you can talk to any of us, and we will always listen to whatever you have to say. Unless it’s about how you need a poo.”

Tommy laughed under his breath. “Thanks, Tubbo. I really needed that,” he said. “And I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“It’s fine,” Tubbo said. “Just don’t do that again, okay?”

“I won’t,” Tommy muttered.

Even as he told Tubbo he wouldn’t hurt himself again, Tommy wasn’t all too sure if he believed what he was saying.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo calls an emergency meeting, where he discusses the previous night's happenings with Wilbur, Phil, Techno and Quackity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I just want to thank you all so much for the love and support on the last chapter. Updates might be a little bit slower for the next few weeks as I'm back at uni from tomorrow (though not on a particularly extreme schedule), but I hope to get at least two chapters out a week! They'll also probably get longer with each update as the story progresses.
> 
> This chapter isn't particularly triggering in my personal opinion, but I would still take cautious steps if you are at all affected or triggered by suicidal themes & topics.

_ “Move another inch and you’re down,” Dream shouted from the interior of his base. Ghostbur didn’t think it looked like much, really -- it was a small shack that didn’t look very fancy at all. It looked unsuspecting, which was probably what Dream was aiming for. “State your name and business.” _

_ “It’s me, Dream. Ghostbur!”  _

_ There was silence between the two as Dream gradually cracked the door of his small shack open, his hand shaking as he held onto his door. Ghostbur flinched as a large globlet of rain hit his head, triggering his colourless hair to sizzle slightly in the rain. “Why are you here?” Dream snapped, his other hand on his sword. _

_ “Can’t I come and visit my friend? I wanted to see you. No-one’s seen you since everything blew up,” Ghostbur sighed, “and no-one wants to talk about you unless they host big, fancy meetings that are apparently really serious. Can I come in?” _

_ “You can’t stay for long,” Dream sighed, running his shaking hands through his hair as he dropped his tough, warrior-like guard. “They’ll get suspicious if you’re gone for long, Ghostbur.” _

_ Ghostbur nodded and quickly rushed into Dream’s house. It had a downstairs, which was actually sizeable compared to the unsuspecting exterior of the shack; that was where most of Dream’s stuff appeared to be, while his bed was upstairs alongside his small but efficient armoury. _

_ “Why are you here, Ghostbur? Don’t you know why they aren’t talking about me?” Dream asked as Ghostbur plopped himself down onto Dream’s single bed. _

_ “I know why they aren’t talking about you, Dream. You blew L’Manberg up. Now it’s just L’Manhole, and it’s really sad. I miss Friend,” Wilbur muttered. “They keep telling me every day as if they expect me to immediately forget what happened, but I couldn’t forget something as big as what you did.” _

_ “It wasn’t just me, Will!” Dream yelled. Ghostbur recoiled in shock, staring at Dream with bewilderment in his eyes. “It was Technoblade and Philza, too.” _

_ “I know, Dream,” Ghostbur whispered. “Please don’t yell. I don’t like it when people yell, Dream. I know that Techno and Phil did bad things, too. You aren’t the only person who did this.” _

_ Dream furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at Ghostbur, who seemed extremely sentimental for a ghost. He never remembered anything, and suddenly, he appeared to know everything about Doomsday and the events that occured in L’Manberg, triggering its downfall. “How do you remember everything?” _

_ “I don’t know. Maybe… well, maybe--maybe it’s because I don’t want to be a ghost anymore,” Ghostbur said, meeting Dream’s beady eyes. “I shouldn’t be here. Everyone hates you, but I need you to help me, Dream.” _

_ “Help you? Help you with what?” Dream asked. He already knew what Wilbur was asking, but Dream had to hear it to make sure he was right. _

_ “I want you to bring me back to life.” _

* * *

“Wilbur? You okay?” Phil asked as he approached his son, who was leaning against a wall outside of the meeting room, which was probably the best room in the makeshift community house they’d all created. The building essentially solidified that L’Manberg was going to be rebuilt eventually. Even if it was slow progress, the existence of a community building showed outsiders that there was still a L’Manberg, even if it had been blown to smithereens.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Wilbur sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Do you know why Tubbo called this meeting? He sounded pretty frantic when he stormed into my room this morning, as if he was worried about something.”

“No clue, Will,” Phil said. “It’s probably important, though. He did sound pretty alarmed, but if it was that urgent, he wouldn’t have given us any time to get dressed. He would’ve just ushered us all into the meeting room regardless of what we were wearing and how awake we were.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Wilbur agreed, nodding as he heard footsteps. Slowly walking towards them was Technoblade, who was pulling on a hoodie exhaustedly. “Mornin’, Techno.”

“Anyone know why Tubbo called this damn meeting? It’s too early for this,” the pink-haired man groaned, stretching lazily. 

“No idea,” Quackity chirped as he exited the room he shared with Wilbur, putting his head down and letting his hair fall into his face as he whipped his hoodie onto his head, containing his bedhead. “I’d make coffee, but we ran out of it a few days ago.”

Techno groaned and slumped against the nearest wall, slowly sliding towards the ground as he checked his watch. “Anyone seen Tommy yet? He’s not usually late to these meetings,” Techno said, looking up to the rest of the group, who all shrugged. “Funny. He used to be late to a lot of things, but he’s changed now.”

“We all have,” Wilbur muttered. “Tommy, though… yeah, he’s changed a lot. He’s not the same person he used to be anymore.”

Wilbur could feel everyone’s eyes on him for a while, which made him feel awkward and small, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since his resurrection. Sometimes he would hear Ghostbur’s small, echoey voice crawling around in his head, and it made him feel incredibly exhausted and claustrophobic, often leaving him with paralytic headaches that would wipe him out for a whole day. He couldn’t confidently explain the headaches to anyone, because he didn’t like to talk about his resurrection.

“Sorry, guys,” Tubbo said, his voice a hushed murmur as he locked the door to his and Tommy’s room. There were clear bags under his eyes -- had he not slept? “Tommy’s not coming to this meeting. I’ll explain more when we’re in the meeting room.”

“It’s about Tommy, isn’t it?” Wilbur asked, staring at Tubbo as he meekly walked across the hall to the meeting room, which was currently looked. Silently, Tubbo nodded, confirming Wilbur’s suspicions. Wilbur inhaled sharply. He clearly wasn’t the only one who noticed how much Tommy had changed. He wasn’t himself anymore, and Wilbur was relieved to know that Tubbo and Techno had noticed the changes in the sixteen-year-old.

The five of them conceded to each of their corresponding seats, which were marked out with makeshift wood carvings. Wilbur fiddled with the hem of his shirt as Tubbo scooted himself towards the group and placed his hands on the table, looking mortified and somewhat out of it completely.

“I didn’t want to call a meeting so soon,” Tubbo started, “but, last night, Tommy did something. His actions meant that I didn’t have a choice in doing this. You’ve probably all noticed how Tommy isn’t himself -- something is clearly wrong with him, and I don’t know what, but we have to help him.”

“What did he do?” Wilbur asked. “He didn’t attack you, did he?”

“He didn’t attack me, Will,” Tubbo sighed. “Rather, he hurt himself. I opened the bathroom door after showering, and there he was, bleeding. He cut himself.”

“What?” Phil said, his bright eyes trembling.

“He cut himself?” Quackity said, looking defeated. Techno simply remained silent, though Wilbur noticed that the pink-haired former anarchist was deep in thought. 

“Not a lot,” Tubbo continued, “but it was clearly deliberate. He tried to tell me it was an accident, but it wasn’t. The cut was far too clean for it to be an accident. It wasn’t like a bad papercut or a gash from a crafting knife, guys. He was holding his sword, and it was dripping with his blood.”

Technoblade inhaled sharply. “You should’ve called this meeting last night, Tubbo,” he started, looking simultaneously infuriated with Tubbo and concerned about Tommy. “Even so, that doesn’t matter now. I noticed a few days ago that something’s not right with Tommy -- he’s been different since Wilbur was resurrected, and I don’t know why, but last night’s happenings are only further proof that he is far from okay.”

“We need someone to be watching him 24/7,” Phil said. “Obviously, we’ll need to swap out shifts, but we need to be watching him. He’s clearly a danger to himself. Where are his weapons?”

“I hid them last night,” Tubbo admitted. “After he fell asleep, I snuck around our room and took his sword and his axe. He’ll probably be mad at us -- mad at me, specifically, but we don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“He needs his family,” Wilbur hummed. “He needs us to be there for him. We’ve not been there for him. All of this time, we’ve been so heavily focused on restoring L’Manberg, but we’ve not been paying attention to each other. After what happened, any of us could slip down a dark hole. We need to be there for each other, but we especially need to be there for Tommy right now.”

“Wilbur,” Quackity said, turning his attention across the room, “you said that the resurrection left Dream weak, right? I don’t know why that is. We need to remember that, we all have one life left, barring Techno, and none of us are all that weak. I think the resurrection took more than a life out of Dream, and it’s slowly killing him. I think, though, if Tommy gives up, it gives Dream an incentive to grow stronger and come back fighting.”

“I don’t know why my resurrection left Dream so weak, but I think you’re on the right path,” Wilbur sighed. “Giving up isn’t an option for any of us, and it especially isn’t an option for Tommy. If you put it simply, all of this mess started because of the discs.”

“It’s essentially Tommy versus Dream,” Technoblade agreed, nodding. “We don’t have to be here, but we are, and that puts us into this mess. If we sit here and wait for Tommy to give up altogether, Dream will get stronger, and he’ll come back fighting. Even if he only has one life left, he’d fight until the very end to take us all down. I used to consider Dream a friend. I know what he’s like. He will come back swinging as soon as he hears of L’Manberg’s return, and he will come back even sooner if he hears about Tommy’s current situation.”

“He needs something to make him feel better in some capacity. Even if we don’t have his discs, he needs something that’ll make him feel happy. Even a temporary bout of happiness is much better than no happiness at all,” Phil said. “We could let an outside source know, but we would have to let them know that they couldn’t tell anyone else about Tommy’s state. And if we do let an outside source know, we couldn’t just tell them about Tommy’s state without knowing that they won’t side with Dream.”

“Fundy would help,” Tubbo stated. “I know he’s not helping with the hands-on stuff, but he said that, if we need any help from him, he’d be happy to contribute. I’m sure we could take him up on that offer.”

“I haven’t spoken to Fundy in a week,” Wilbur said, “but I’m sure he’d be glad to help Tommy feel better. We should really move him into the community house. Even if he isn’t going to directly help with the rebuilding aspect, he’s good to have on-hand.”

“Do we have the space to move him in? I don’t know how many more beds we have,” Quackity interjected.

“We have the family room, which sleeps four people, and we have one last double room left. Both of those rooms are upstairs. They’re definitely not the best, but we have the space to move Fundy in, if we all think that’s a good idea,” Tubbo explained. “Who else could be some help? Eret, maybe? Or Niki?”

“It’s probably not the wisest idea for Niki to move in. Not for a while, anyway,” Wilbur explained. “She doesn’t exactly trust Tommy, and I doubt that’ll change anytime soon.”

“Eret might just have to stay at a maybe, too,” Techno added. “I know he betrayed L’Manberg a long time ago, but I think it’s safe to say they’re still considered a traitor. They can remain a close ally, but I don’t think we’ll be able to confide in Eret completely for a while.”

“Fundy it is, then,” Tubbo sighed, jotting a few notes down in his messy notepad. “We’ll put a maybe next to Eret, and a cross next to Niki -- for now, at least.”

“About the family room,” Phil started. “If we get Fundy on board, would it be a good idea for us to move Tommy up to the family room with him? Wilbur and Tubbo, if you moved up there too, someone would have a constant eye on Tommy at night. Plus, if we do get Eret and Niki on board soon, it’s a good idea in terms of room space. Since you four are family, I think it’s the best idea if you’re all together. I can move into the room across the hall from the family room, too, since I’d be close by if anything happened.”

“Good idea, Phil,” Tubbo said, smiling at his adoptive father. Though it was rare for Phil’s kids to call him Dad or anything of the like, they all respected him and treated him like the father he was. “So, we move Fundy in, and myself, Tommy and Will move up to the family room, while Phil takes the room across the hall in an effort to have several people around Tommy at once. Techno and Big Q, you can stay in your rooms if you want, but you can always switch around if you feel like it, considering there’ll be more space for the both of you.”

“I’m good stayin’ where I am, man,” Techno said, shrugging nonchalantly as he swung backwards and forwards on his chair. “Sounds like a good plan overall. Did you clean up Tommy’s wound from last night? We should probably keep an eye on it. Y’know, make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Don’t worry,” Tubbo replied. “I cleaned up as soon as Tommy would let me. It took a few minutes for him to let his guard down and tell the truth, but I cleaned the wound, controlled the bleeding and bandaged his hand up. I told him not to help with the building for a few days because of his wound. He didn’t really like that, but I basically told him he doesn’t have a choice.”

“That’s a good idea,” Quackity agreed. “If he helps with the heavy lifting or the building at all, he could hurt his hand and interrupt the healing process. Techno, do you have any potions of healing he could use?”

“I don’t have any potions of healing ready, but I have the ingredients,” Techno hummed. “Plus, I’ve actually been workin’ on a way to convert potions into salves and balms. I think applying a small bit of a healing salve would be a good idea -- otherwise, we’d be wasting an entire potion, and supplies are low.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur agreed, though his mind was elsewhere. “We need to save the potions you have for emergencies only, or any big battles we get ourselves into. Using the salve would be a better idea. Do you have a sense of how big Tommy’s wound is?”

“I’d say it’s a fair few inches long,” Tubbo sighed. “Techno, if you can get that salve sorted as soon as possible, that’d be great. Will, get to work on contacting Fundy. Phil and Big Q, sort out the family room upstairs and reshuffle anything that needs to be rearranged. Our priority right now isn’t restoring L’Manberg. We can only do that when Tommy is better.”

The meeting was hastily adjourned, and Tubbo lingered outside of his and Tommy’s bedroom door before quietly unlocking it, peeking his head around the wooden door to check if Tommy was awake. 

The blonde-haired sixteen-year-old was just crawling out of his bed, looking confused and exhausted as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Mornin’,” Tommy sighed through a yawn. “You alright, Tubbo?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Tubbo said. “Everyone’s up, and they’re heading to the mess hall for breakfast. I should probably check your hand before you go.”

“My h-ha,” Tommy started, almost forgetting about what he’d done last night. He realised just as his sights set on his left hand, where his blue eyes met the bandage that Tubbo had wrapped around his wounded hand. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Just… ah, make it quick, I guess. I’m really fuckin’ hungry. How are you not hungry yet? I wouldn’t have waited for me to get up if I were you guys.”

“I’ve not been up for long, really,” Tubbo explained, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not sure about the others, but Techno and Quackity look like they’ve only just gotten up themselves. We’ve not got any coffee, though.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Tommy groaned as he slowly pulled a clean shirt on. “Any plans for the day yet?”

“I don’t think we have any definite plans just yet,” Tubbo said. “Will talked to me earlier and brought up the idea of moving Fundy in. The four of us -- myself, you, Will and Fundy -- could all move into the family room upstairs. It’d be great!”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, hissing under his breath as Tubbo slowly unwrapped the bandage around Tommy’s left hand. “That would be nice. Plus, there’d be more room for people to move into the community house if we moved up into the family room.”

“Yeah! Good! I’m glad you’re onboard with that,” Tubbo said, smiling at his adoptive brother before taking a long look at Tommy’s wound. It was still fresh, clearly, and there hadn’t been much change overnight, but he was hoping that Techno’s healing salve would change that in a positive way. “Techno’s been working on converting potions into salves and balms, so they’re a little more compatible. If you want me to get some of his healing salve when he’s done with making it, just let me know, and we can get that cut all healed up a lot quicker.”

“Hmm,” Tommy said as he watched his brother wrap a fresh bandage around his injured hand. “That’s a good idea, actually. A great idea. I don’t wanna be out of the heavy lifting for too long, if at all. Do you want me to talk to Fundy, or is that Will’s job?”

“I think he’s going to talk to Fundy today if you want to tag along,” Tubbo continued, grinning boldly as he finished wrapping the bandage around Tommy’s hand. “You alright, Tommy? You look like you’re a little far away.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Tommy sighed. “Just thinking about things, I guess. The future.”

“Okay. You ready for breakfast?”

* * *

Dream groaned audibly as he struggled to crawl out of bed, feeling winded even as he sat up. He opened his eyes and looked around the dark, near-empty room, where he saw practically nothing. There was his blast furnace and his smoker upstairs, as well as his crafting table and his bed. Nothing about his makeshift shack felt like home, and that was because it wasn’t home.

He couldn’t call anything home anymore, not when everyone hated him. Everyone was hunting him, and everyone wanted him dead. And considering he was so weak, it wouldn’t be long until Dream crumbled altogether.

“What am I going to do?”


End file.
